


Sedating Frenzy

by The_Silver_Souled_Hunter



Series: Bestial Encounters [4]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gen, Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Tongue Bath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 19:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter/pseuds/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter
Summary: After the incident in Yahar'gul, Henryk sets out to search for his hunting partner.  He assumes the worst upon finding Gascoigne, yet the beast seems to recognize him.





	Sedating Frenzy

Henryk was perched on a tipped carriage, surveying Central Yharnam from his spot on the Great Bridge. He strained his eyes for the flash of a Hunter’s Axe, the familiar black church garb, any sign of his hunting partner. Worry continued to grow in his stomach as more and more time passed.

He had found Viola’s body in the Tomb of Oedon, the corpses of crazed Yharnamites scattered across the ground. The madmen had slaughtered the poor woman, and there was no telling what would happen once Gascoigne found out…unless he already knew.

Henryk shuddered at the thought. What if Gascoigne had already gone mad, wandering the streets and mindlessly slaughtering anything that moved? He took a deep breath and hopped down from the carriage. His best option was to search on foot, praying that he wouldn’t have to carry out any acts of mercy.

A sharp impact struck the old hunter’s back. He fell to the ground, hearing one of those damned trolls let out a groan. With a hiss he flipped himself over, seeing the fiend raise a brick over it’s head. Before it could strike him again, an animal twice it’s size leapt over Henryk and tackled it.

The beast ripped open the troll’s throat, ending it instantly. As it eagerly lapped up the blood, Henryk stood and whimpered. The beast heard him and snapped it’s attention to the hunter. It wore that familiar priest garb, dirtied bandages were wrapped around it’s eyes, and it’s tangled silver mane was matted with blood. The monstrosity bore a striking resemblance to his partner, albeit twisted by the scourge.

“Gascoigne…oh god, is it really you…?” Henryk said. The beast tromped forward, drool spilling from it’s jaws. Henryk backed away from the advancing beast, trembling at the sight of it’s red-stained teeth. He gulped and drew his pistol, knowing that this moment was inevitable. “Forgive me, my friend…” he whispered. Before he could pull the trigger, Gascoigne pounced and slammed him against the ground.

The beast that was once Father Gascoigne pinned Henryk against the cobblestones. It took deep sniffs, heating his clothes with it’s breath, snarling all the while. Henryk stifled a scream as a thick tongue dragged over his chest, soaking the front of his garb. Scrambling for his pouch, he took a throwing knife and raised it just as the beast’s tongue reached his neck. He stabbed it in the throat, rolling away and breaking into a sprint the moment it reared up with a roar of pain.

Henryk didn’t dare look back as he aimlessly charged through the streets of Yharnam. Gascoigne was a beast, Viola was dead, and oh god, what of the children?! Tears blurred his vision. He needed to rest, and thankfully there was a spot nearby. He dropped onto a wooden platform, carefully moved some barrels, and stepped onto the overlook.

Collapsing against a wall, Henryk allowed the tears to spill in full force. Keeping his sobs as silent as possible, he curled up and shut his eyes. Sleeping was far from the best idea, but he was merely resting. It would only take a minute to recuperate.

That minute turned into many, and Gascoigne had followed his trail during that time. He crept up to the dozing hunter, flicking his tongue and huffing. He still had that horrid little beast’s odor. Gascoigne carefully rubbed his cheek against Henryk’s shins, gradually covering them with his scent. As he continued nuzzling against the hunter, a deep purr rumbled up from his throat.

The beast’s mind was a mess, pain and bloodlust overcoming rational thought, but something about this hunter’s scent quelled that pain. The musty, oh so familiar smell was comforting, a stark contrast to the bitter, metallic scent of blood that stained every surface. Even the dull yellow of his garb appeared clear and in color.

There was only one problem: it was stained with the smell of the little beast that had tried to devour him and slipped out of his grasp. Thankfully by this point he had mostly covered it with his own odor. Gascoigne gently lapped at the hunter’s face covering, giving a low growl at the lacing that was impossible for his claws or teeth to manage.

The beast tilted his head as he regarded the hunter, taking in his small, shivering form. He growled and carefully climbed on top of him, wrapping his arms around him to keep from wriggling free. Gascoigne purred as he settled down, feeling calmer than he had been at any point that night.

Warmth had enveloped Henryk. As he stirred, he was tempted to nestle back in, convinced that he was safely in bed, the events of the night merely being a terrible dream. At least until he felt a gust of hot air against the back of his head. Henryk tensed up, feeling something slimy lave against his hair.

Gascoigne had found him. His former partner had him trapped in a tight embrace, lightly crushing him with his weight. Tears leaked from Henryk’s eyes once more, panic overtaking his system. Gascoigne growled and flipped him over, easily grasping his body in his gnarled hands.

Henryk could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the beast nudged his face covering. He recalled the smaller beast earlier in the night and raised a trembling hand to unlace the covering. Henryk didn’t get a second to feel the cold air against his face before being smothered by a slobbery tongue.

The old hunter squirmed and whimpered as Gascoigne groomed his face, thundering purrs rumbling up from his throat. He pulled away once satisfied, allowing Henryk to wipe the thick saliva from his face with a grimace. Gascoigne wouldn’t stop rubbing against him, eagerly sniffing him all over and purring. Henryk steadied his breathing, biting back a wince at the beast gently mouthing at his glove.

After what felt like hours of being cradled and nuzzled, Gascoigne finally dropped the old hunter. Henryk scrambled to his feet and bolted for the stairs, only for his partner’s jaws to clamp down on his coat. His sharp gasp was nearly silenced by the high-pitched whimper that sounded from the beast.

Henryk was motionless, allowing Gascoigne to tromp around to his front. He gently bumped his head against the hunter’s chest, knocking him onto his behind. Henryk grunted and moved to stand, only for his partner to lay his head down on his lap. He tentatively placed a hand on Gascoigne’s head and scratched his fingers through his hair.

Henryk could hardly believe it. Father Gascoigne was still in there. Hidden away by beasthood, yes, but he had not given up. Maybe, just maybe there was hope for him. Of course there was the issue of shelter, the children, and what would happen if Eileen got involved, but knowing his partner was holding on gave him some comfort.

Gascoigne purred and nudged Henryk’s belly in response to the scratching. He felt safe and warm, the everlasting pain and hunger having subsided. He lifted his head and licked his cheek, ignoring the grunt of disgust. The beast curled up and purred, unaware of his friend’s concerns. He sniffed the hunter’s garb once more, oddly certain that everything would be alright.


End file.
